


i can't believe you kept that

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon verse, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean have been married for years.  They settled down in a place of their own, got out of the hunting business (mostly), and carved out their own version of the apple pie life.  And after all this time, Cas knows just how to get Dean riled up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can't believe you kept that

**Author's Note:**

> soooo i *should* be working on some of my other stuff, but i really just needed a quick break from my gishwhes stuff so i wrote this real quick. don't expect any WIP updates this week as i finish that up, but i'm hoping for two other oneshots when i take breaks :)
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr [@jhoomwrites](http://jhoomwmrites.tumblr.com)

Castiel finishes his shower, carefully turning the tap so that it’s all the way off.  The last few drips escape before it closes, but then silence reigns in the bathroom.  He’d spent the better part of the afternoon and evening in the garden and desperately needed the shower before bed.  The dirt and grass stains don’t particularly bother Cas, but Dean threw a fit the last time he’d gotten the sheets dirty.

Dean Winchester, the man who used to go to bed with blood and guts still dripping from his clothes, crusted under his nails and clinging to his hair.  Funny how things change.

Smiling, Cas towels his hair dry.  His husband has taken to their civilian lifestyle better than either had anticipated.  While Castiel always thought he’d like it more than he let on, Dean was always adamant it wouldn’t last.  It never had when he’d tried before.  The road would call him back, he’d never fit in, he wouldn’t be able to hold down a job...  Excuse after excuse, and one by one they evaporated.  

Turns out, the thing that’d been missing all those other times was Cas.

Now here he was, drying himself off in a master bedroom complete with walk in closet.  In a house that he shares with his husband.   _Husband_.  So yes, he’s grinning to himself as he goes to grab some pajama bottoms.  Hand gliding over the clothes hanging on his side of the closet as he walks to the dresser, he stops when they catch on familiar fabric.

An idea sparks to life.  Plans immediately change, and instead of pulling on a loose pair of pajama pants, he’s carefully pulling out a much different outfit.

When he walks out of the bathroom, Dean’s in bed.  He doesn’t look up from his book, something worn and well-read, folded easily in half.  The glasses he’d been forced to get a few years ago sit precariously on the tip of his nose, ready to fall at a moment’s notice.  Honestly, Cas had no idea when Dean transformed from gruff hunter into suburban husband, but he very much likes the image before him.

“What took you so long?” he grouses, eyes still skimming along the text.  “Thought you got lost in... there...”  Dean makes the mistake of glancing up over the edges of the book and does a double take.  He licks his lips as he gives Cas a very unsubtle once over.  

Whatever Dean might have been expecting, this certainly wasn’t it.  Pristine white button down, accented by a blue tie (deliberately tied backwards).  Black suit with matching shoes (loosely tied so they can be kicked off with ease).  And a tan trench coat to top it off.  

Cas hasn’t worn a suit in ages.  Hasn’t needed to in their daily life, and on the last few hunts it hadn’t come up either.  But even then, he’s favored navy blue or charcoal suits.  Ones that Dean say fit him perfectly.  This one’s been neglected, _ignored_  for... well, years probably.  

The effect it has on Dean is instant and unmistakable.  

“Holy shit,” Dean whispers.  Then there’s a flurry of activity.  He’s fumbling to get the bookmark in place while he pulls off his glasses.  The glasses make it to the nightstand, but the book’s not so lucky.  It falls off the edge, bookmark slipping out and fluttering to the ground.  Dean, apparently, doesn’t care.  He sits up, looks about to stand or shift more, but freezes.  “How uh,” he clears his throat in mild embarrassment.  “How do you want me, babe?”

Cas raises an eyebrow at that.

A blush spreads beautifully across Dean’s cheeks.  “How do you want me?  You want me to suck you off?  You want me on my back?  Hands and knees?  You want me to ride you?”  He gestures to Cas’ outfit, hand sweeping over it.  “Cuz right now, looking like that, you could fuck me just about any way you wanted and I’d be begging for more.”

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.  “Dean,” he says gravely, “I believe you might have a fetish.”

“For dorky angels in trench coats?  Yeah, I have a friggin fetish for that.  You gonna get in me or what?”

When Cas donned his old outfit, he knew it would spark some interest in Dean.  However, he didn't anticipate a reaction quite like this.  His own arousal, thrumming lowly beneath the surface as it had been the last ten minutes, spikes as he imagines all the things he could do to Dean.  What Dean is freely offering.  He decides to start with the obvious.

"Turn around, get on your hands and knees."  

"Yeah."  Dean swallows.  "Yeah, I can do that."  And he scrambles to turn over, shaking his ass at Cas when he's in position.   _Taunting_  him.  

Well, there'll be none of   _that_.  This was his idea and he plans on taking full advantage of it.  "Get the lube out, Dean."

Dean does as he's told, stretching as far as possible so he doesn't have to get up.  He digs around in the drawer blindly until he pulls out the small bottle and flings it at Cas impatiently.  Cas catches it deftly but makes no move toward the bed.  He waits and watches, enjoying the view before him of his husband waiting eagerly for him.  He's quite sure it's a view he'll never get tired of, not if he lives another thousand millenia.

"Cas," he whines, fidgeting in place.  

It snaps him out of his trance and he finally closes the distance between them.  Slowly, he gets onto the bed and pulls down Dean's sweatpants and briefs.  He bunches them up around his knees and massages the meat of his thighs, his ass until he feels Dean start to relax.  Only then does he start to circle his entrance with a dry finger, coaxing him to loosen the puckered muscle.  

He teases until Dean's shaking, whimpering and close to thrusting himself backwards, lack of lube be damned.  With an amount of self-control that impresses even himself, Castiel firmly holds Dean's hip in place with one arm.  With his free hand, he manages to open the lube and apply a generous amount directly to Dean's hole.  Dean flinches slightly at he cold but moans in relief as soon as Cas breaches him with one finger, all the way to the knuckle.

As he always does, Cas takes his time opening Dean up.  He enjoys making his husband fall apart with precise movements.  It's a test of his own willpower to do it when his body screams to take take take, all while his mind pleads to give give give.  Only when he's confidant that Dean's ready, when he's teased his prostate and seen him endure the continued stretch and pressure of three fingers, does he pull away.  

Initially he'd instructed Dean to position himself like this because it would best allow him to fuck into him with reckless abandon.  Hard and fast, the way Dean prefers when he's this worked up.  And though he thoroughly loves the sounds he can draw from Dean like this, the ones he challenges himself to draw out of Dean, the prospect is not as appealing as it was earlier.  No, he wants to _see_  Dean and he suspects Dean wants to see him as well right now.

"Turn over."  His voice is harsh and pitched lower than usual, his own desire making the demand rougher than it otherwise would be.  But Dean complies, rolling onto his back and moving to spread his legs.  His legs, still trapped by his sweatpants, don't go nearly far enough and he whines in frustration at the delay.

"Shhh," Castiel soothes as he strips Dean of first his pants and briefs, then his shirt.  Dean allows the slight manhandling and offers his stretched and ready hole with the quick upturn of his hips.  

"Please, baby.  Need you in me yesterday."  

Cas is all too happy to do just that.  He undoes his pants and moves them sufficiently out of the way to free his erection, leaking and wanting.  He of course takes care to fold the pants so that the zipper won't rub angry marks into Dean, then lines himself and pushes in.  No matter how much he promises himself that he'll do this part slowly, he hasn't managed since those first few times he and Dean had sex.  He's fully seated in Dean before he can even truly register the head of his cock breaching.  

The dazed look on Dean's face he suspects matches his own.  He dips down to capture those beautiful lips in a hungry kiss, then begins to move in earnest.  Dean's legs wrap around him, but he does no more than hold on and let Cas take over.  

"Ohhh, so good, angel, always so good," Dean moans and writhes underneath him.  "Fucking fuck me, c'mon baby-"

With a growl, Cas doubles his pace and pounds into Dean mercilessly.  He's never been one to talk much during sex - that was always more Dean's thing - but he indulges in the roleplay now.  He threatens Dean to learn his place, as a human he re-made with the sole purpose of serving him and Heaven.  Demands the respect owed to him as an angel of the Lord.  

(Strange though, that the roleplay is of himself.  Albeit an earlier incarnation, but one that is very much Castiel.)

As surreal as it might seem, Dean gets off surprisingly quickly.  He arches into Cas’ embrace as he comes all over the place, come marking his chest and Cas’ shirt and tie as well as their bedspread.  He remains taut underneath him as he lets the aftershock of his pleasure consume him, and then falls back down in a pliable heap.  

Castiel watches it all, mesmerized by how stunning Dean is.  

Soon as he feels his orgasm cresting, he pulls out and jerks his cock a few times until his own come can mingle with Dean’s.  He’s tempted to lick it off, taste their combined seed and relish that they’ve survived long enough to arrive here, in each other’s arms in a bed and a home that they share.  That they’ve built together.

Instead, he collapses bonelessly onto his husband, spreading the come no doubt into an awful mess.  

They stay like that for a while, panting and letting their heartbeats calm down.  Dean’s the one to recover first, laughter bubbling out.  

“I can’t believe you kept that damn getup,” he says while choking on laughter.  “Damn, Cas.  “s not fair.”

Cas shifts his weight onto his elbows, easing off of Dean enough that the other man can breathe more easily.  “I promise not to exploit your obvious fetish more than necessary.”

Dean playfully shoves him off and turns to grab some tissues to clean them up.  As he starts dabbing at the already dried come on his belly.  He makes a face at the rest of the mess and determines it a lost cause.  Throwing the tissues aside, he cradles Cas’ face in one hand and leans in for a soft, chaste kiss.  

“Cas, believe me when I say there’s no way you could possibly overuse that against me.”


End file.
